The Savage Circle
by lovelylittledreamer
Summary: Percy Jackson is issued a quest to reclaim an unnamed object. With virtually no direction, he blindly begins his search. In the process, he and his gang stumble upon the gods' best kept, most dangerous secret ... the Savage Circle: demigods trained to be bloodthirsty warriors. Who exactly is behind such a grand scheme, and what are its ties to the nightmarish storm approaching?
1. Impending Doom

**Author's Note: This is my first shot at a Percy Jackson fic, so please don't bite my head off. I kind of need it. Some things you may want to know: this takes place after the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series and **_**before**_** the Heroes of Olympus.**

**I'm sure I'll think of something else to say later, but aside from that, if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask.**

**Chapter One**

**Impending Doom**

Percy Jackson gazed into the distance, surveying the thin line at which the sky touched the calm waters of the Long Island Sound. Dipping toward the horizon, the sun blazed against a dusty, rose-tinged palette, and waves curled across the sand, frothing against his bare toes. A light breeze ruffled his shaggy hair, and a tumble of locks fell into his eyes. He cast them aside with a quick shake of his head, swallowing over the sharp taste of salt coating his tongue.

Nature seemed to be in almost singular harmony . . . and maybe that explained the unsettling churn of his stomach. It was _too_ quiet- _too _serene. Everything in his life had been for the past half year. Normal had never suited Percy, and especially not at Camp Half-Blood.

A summer camp for _demigods_ practically implied 'adventure'. Yet _nothing was happening_. He had never considered the fact that being descended from a Greek god could _ever_ become remotely monotonous or routine.

But it had.

Recover Zeus's Master Bolt? Percy had been there and done that.

Behead Medusa? You bet.

Recapture the Golden Fleece? The proof was hanging in the branches of Thalia's pine tree.

Traverse the Labyrinth? That had been a piece of cake.

Save Olympus? Check that off the list.

Battle the Titans? He'd wiped out that threat, too.

Then some time had passed. At first, Percy had relished in the simplicity. After everything he had been through in the past few years, a break was much needed and much appreciated. But he was a _demigod_, a son of Poseidon nonetheless. There was a little thing he had called ADHD, and it was kicking in- _big time_.

Except then, more time passed . . . and more . . . and more. Campers went about their daily lives, and he had no choice but to follow. He waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. Still, no quests were issued. At least not any of real value.

Percy wanted to attribute the acid boiling in the pit of his stomach to his own boredom, but he knew there was something more. Something was wrong. This was the realm of the gods he was talking about. Nothing was _ever_ in perfect order. _Nothing_. For the entirety of western civilization to be in such a calm state surely indicated that something had, or was quickly approaching, going amiss.

A foreboding sense of chaos and calamity clamped hold around his windpipe. This –whatever it was- wasn't going to last for much longer, that he was sure of.

"Hey Seaweed Brain."

Percy glanced from the gentle sway of the sea, watching as Annabeth approached. Her sneakers left imprints in the grains, expanding toward a grassy slope. She halted, gray eyes trained on the length of the shore, before turning to meet his gaze. He smiled, clenching his fingers to resist brushing an unruly strand of blonde hair from her forehead.

Yeah, she was his girlfriend . . . but it was still strange for him.

"What are you doing out here so late?" she inquired, raising a slanted eyebrow.

Percy took a moment to respond. The sunset blurred over her shoulder, as his focus zeroed in on her. She continued to give him a curious look. Generally, she could practically read his mind. He guessed his emotions had been a bit out of whack recently, though.

"Nothing really," he replied, tacking on a shrug, "just . . . observing."

Annabeth snorted in disbelief. "You think I don't know you better than that? Come on, give me a break. You've been acting all out of sorts, and reminiscing as you gaze off into the horizon is just topping the matter . . . What's going on inside your head, Percy?"

He sighed. There was no deterring her.

"I just . . . this doesn't feel right. Any of this," he attempted to explain.

Her stare was piercing, and he suddenly felt as if he was under a microscope. Fidgeting from foot to foot, he fumbled with the hem of his cotton t-shirt. He set his sights on the estuary once more, swallowing thickly. He felt like she was already beginning to pry his brain open.

"You're bored," she clarified resolutely. "We all are. _I _certainly am. None of us are used to this . . . nothing-ness, either. It does no good for you to bottle that up. Talk to me. I may be your girlfriend, but I'm also your _best _friend. I'm here to help, whether you ask or not."

"It's not just that, though. Yeah, I'm bored out of my skull . . . but I also have this feeling in my gut. With all this time of peace, something has bound to have been building up. What am I supposed to do now? Wait for the explosion?" Percy demanded, gritting his teeth.

She, for once, was at a loss for words.

"I can't do that, Annabeth. I can't wait for impending doom. It's not me. It's not in my blood and it's not hardwired in my brain. I just _can't_."

She sidled closer, taking his hand. He twined their fingers, applying equal pressure. They stood, together, glaring into the fading rays of the sun. She felt it now, too- that mounting, oppressive weight that loomed in the near future. A mass –a mass of some dark, evil thing- was writhing and grasping for purchase in the universe. The tension Percy had been struggling beneath for the past few months was pronounced and utterly tangible in the atmosphere.

"I tried not to think about it," Annabeth admitted, gnawing at her bottom lip with the dull curve of her tooth. "I tried to ignore such a sentiment about as much as you shoved your own feelings down."

Percy shook his head, frustration bubbling to a dangerous peak. The entire situation was unnerving. He was used to a certain extent of ignorance. Not knowing what the next day (or hour, for that matter) held was not a foreign concept. He'd been on enough quests to know that wasn't an unusual occurrence. This, though . . . this was entirely too much.

"What should we do?" He couldn't mask the pleading note to his words. If anyone had an answer, it was Annabeth.

She remained quiet for a few moments, mulling the prospect over. There was no easy, definite response. What _could_ they do? She recognized that Percy was right: they couldn't just sit around and wait. Waiting was _not _in demi-god fashion, and especially not in Percy and Annabeth fashion. But they couldn't just leave camp and go traipsing off on an adventure they'd concocted on their own; a quest with no basis and no circumstantial evidence would undoubtedly be shot down.

Besides, they had no clue what to do even if they were to go off on their own.

"Maybe we should consult Chiron. He might be withholding information from the campers that could help. If something really is stirring when concerning Olympus, he'll probably have heard of it," Annabeth suggested, shrugging. It wasn't the best idea, but it was all she could muster up under the given circumstances.

Percy nodded. Even if Chiron didn't have anything to share, he'd take their concern into account and attempt to glean the occasional valuable hint. For now, there wasn't much else to be done.

"We should head to the Dining Pavilion. Dinner's probably started by now," Annabeth prodded, indicating the darkening horizon. A layer of ink was settling over the orange and pink sherbet of sunset.

"We'll talk to Chiron after," Percy remarked decidedly.

They turned their backs to the sea spray, picking their way through the sand. Percy inhaled one last gulp of the salty air, vainly hoping it would calm his jittering nerves. Annabeth squeezed his hand comfortingly. Her smile assured him that everything would be _okay_.

A son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena, matched with their other wide array of companions. They were a deadly combination for any foe. Whatever was nearing, they could handle it. Whatever violent storm was coming to pass, they could endure it. They _would_ endure it, simple as that.

"What if he doesn't take us seriously?" Percy inquired doubtfully, as they strolled down a dusty path toward the pavilion.

"He will," Annabeth stated matter-of-factly. "We've never given him a reason not to. In any case, you and I are _surely_ not to only ones who've realized something is off. He may even just be waiting for _us_ to come to _him_ about it."

Annabeth, always the voice of reason. Percy wasn't sure what he'd do without her. In order to avoid a disgustingly romantic scene, he leaned over, quickly brushing his lips against her cheek. He withdrew just as swiftly, smirking at the blush crawling up the side of her neck.

"What was that for?" she asked, mouth curling in an abashed grin.

Percy shook his head, hair flopping into his green eyes. He tugged on her arm, lugging her into motion. She shuffled after him, before settling at an easy pace at his side. As they neared the pavilion, voices surged toward their ears. The murmur of campers and the clatter of cutlery stood in stark contrast to the understated swishing of the ocean waves they'd previously been shrouded in.

"Try to relax," Annabeth instructed, as the two of them rounded a corner and the pavilion came into sight. "Working yourself into an hysterical mess won't do either of us any good."

"I'll do my best," Percy replied, forcing himself to separate their intertwined fingers. He felt immediately colder, but adopted an affable grin in reassurance that he was fine.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, seeing right through him. "We'll get some answers soon, Seaweed Brain."

Percy bit back a sarcastic retort. He desperately hoped she was right.

The constant buzzing concern in the back of his mind had shattered upon spilling all his worries. Now, it had morphed into full-fledged, nerve-wracking anxiety. He wasn't sure which was better, and which was worse. On one hand, he was glad he shared his apprehension with Annabeth. On the other, it seemed all too realistic now.

Gray smoke curled from the pyre in the center of the pavilion. Campers breezed past the fire pit, dropping offerings to the gods into the bed of coals. The long tables stretched across the length of the floor, brimming with chattering demigods. They all appeared at ease and carefree. Percy wondered what it was like, not feeling a nauseous wave roiling fitfully in your stomach. He couldn't remember a time when he _wasn't_ experiencing some form of such a sensation, even before discovering the other portion of his lineage.

He knew -had always _known_- that nothing was ever as it seems. He knew that even in seemingly ideal conditions, there was always something prepared to set off alarms. That was him. That was his entire life . . . and he wouldn't change it for a second.

Percy's attention had wavered, but he was plucked from his thoughts by a sudden commotion. After a brief surge of exclamations, the population of the pavilion dwindled into complete silence. He, still standing upright in an aisle, peered around to find the source. His gaze met Annabeth's, where she had one leg slung over a bench, prepared to sit amongst the other sons and daughters of Athena. Her stormy gray eyes were swallowed in an overly alert sense of confusion.

Someone coughed, and whispers spread like Greek fire through the hall. They echoed off the columns, shooting into the open air. Heads turned, and Percy squared his shoulders. After a second, he realized he had misjudged the location of their wide stares. They weren't looking at him. Their sights were trained on an entirely different individual, slowly strutting in his direction.

A cluster of satyrs stumbled to the side, making a path for the small figure charging through them. Percy clenched his jaw, lest it go slack in shock. Rachel Elizabeth Dare approached, halting a few feet from him. She was clearly under the influence of the Oracle, which meant . . .

She was issuing Percy a quest.

**Author's Note: Good? Bad? Continue? Leave now and never come back? . . . Let me know what you think. Review, review, review. I like when people do.**

**(ten points for that unintentionally rhyme-y phrase . . . it helps if you say it in a sing song-y manner)**


	2. Waiting

**Chapter Two**

**Waiting**

"_You shall reclaim the weapon forged to slay merely one_

_A cataclysm lost in the valley of the sun_

_Though darkness shrouds your victory,_

_Releasing death for all to see_."

Percy's brow furrowed, as Rachel collapsed backward and into a satyr's awaiting arms. He cleared a space on the benches, gingerly placing her there. Her head lulled uncomfortably to the side. A few moments later she stirred, blinking rapidly. The Oracle of Delphi's spirit had been removed from her body, and she regarded the stunned crowd with the utmost clarity.

"Dinner time already?" she joked, grimacing in the unearthly silence.

Minute rustling met her words. No one spoke.

"Well then," she grumbled, shrinking somewhat self-consciously. "I assume I didn't just sleep walk my way down here, so clearly I've said something rather important."

Percy shifted from foot to foot, hands curled into fists at his sides.

"What was it, then? A _prophecy_? Everyone seems rather unnerved . . . What _happened_!?" she demanded, arms flailing in frustration, as nobody stepped in to share information. Her red hair created a fiery halo around her head, contributing to the menacing curve of her brow.

Campers mumbled uneasily, shooting one another wide eyed looks. Generally, quests weren't _that_ big of a deal. They were important, yeah. Monumentally so. They always heralded a greater purpose. There had been a startling lack of them in the recent months, though. A few minor ones scattered about the past half year, but nothing that drew the Oracle out and directly _to_ a person.

Especially not any that discussed slaying and releasing death.

At the head of the pavilion, Chiron rose, hooves clomping against the stone. He cleared his throat loudly, garnering the attention of the entire building. His expression was remarkably blank, as he regarded the hoard of campers staring up at him. Percy felt his breath hitch in his throat.

"Everyone, please return to your meal. This matter should not interrupt," he announced, rotating his gaze through the lines of campers.

They obeyed almost instantly, resuming their previous actions. Cups were lifted to lips, and forks skewered bits and pieces of food. A hub of voices heightened, as individual clusters of people discussed the spectacle that had just occurred. Percy could still feel a number of eyes on him, though most everybody attempted to divert their gazes.

Chiron approached Percy at a sharp clip, motioning for him to follow. "We can talk more in private."

Percy nodded in submission, hurrying after the centaur. Rachel jumped to her feet as well, scurrying along behind them. She hated when she got into that trance, and couldn't recall what she had spewed off about when revived. Mostly, it just irked her to be uninformed. Uninformed was no fun.

Annabeth appeared on Percy's right, having jogged to catch up with the trio. Chiron made no comment, though the set of his lips twisted in faint amusement. It was no surprise, after all. Where one was concerned, the other was soon to follow. Percy and Annabeth were too protective of one another to allow any different.

The Big House came into view, ostentatious in its baby blue pallor. The wraparound porch was barren of demigods, empty chairs facing out into the wilderness. Chiron's gait was determined, and they quickly bypassed the area, entering the farmhouse. Faint noises emitted from the infirmary. A few campers had been injured at the Climbing Wall earlier that day, and they were still nursing their wounds.

"In here," Chiron decided, gesturing toward the rec room.

Percy, Annabeth, and Rachel filed in, fanning out around the ping pong table. Chiron took his place at the head. His shoulders and flank were still tense, muscles coiled uncomfortably. Percy was anything but reassured by this reaction.

"_Sooo_ . . . would anyone like to fill me in?" Rachel inquired, piping up in the wordless silence that followed their entrance.

"_You shall reclaim the weapon forged to slay merely one; A cataclysm lost in the valley of the sun; Though darkness shrouds your victory; Releasing death for all to see_." Annabeth's tone was thoughtful as she spoke, effortlessly reiterating the prophecy word for word.

Chiron stroked his beard, pupils dilating as his vision blurred, immersed in his ponderings. Percy drummed his fingers against the green surface of the table, agitated and restless while waiting for Chiron to speak. Waiting. He was always waiting, and he was very nearly fed up with it.

"Does this have anything to do with how . . . peaceful it's been lately?" Percy demanded, swallowing over the thickness congealing in his throat.

Chiron seemed unsurprised by his claim. "Olympus has been rather unusually calm following the events of the Second Olympian War and the Battle of Manhattan. That much has been painfully obvious to everyone, whether they've wanted to admit it or not."

"What does that mean, then?" Annabeth posed the question through slightly gritted teeth.

"In total honestly, I'm not sure." Chiron was visibly unsettled now, no longer attempting to mask his emotions. "Communication with Olympus has been sparing. The gods aren't blocking anyone in or out, but there's been a definite lack of their . . . intervention. It's almost as if they're just waiting for something to evolve."

There was that word again. _Waiting_. Percy wrestled with his inner conscious, forcing himself to remain seated. He had the urge to pace and pace and pace, until he'd worn a hole straight through the floorboards. None of it made any sense.

"Demigods have been confined to camp for ages. Barely anyone has so much as walked over the property line, unless it's to go to their respective homes. Now all of a sudden I'm supposed to lead a quest to hunt for some mysterious weapon? Not to mention all the other things implied," Percy vented.

Annabeth, having spent the entire span of time up to this point trying to reason the prophecy out, said haltingly: "What I don't get is the last bit. '_Though darkness shrouds your victory; Releasing death for all to see_'. So, what? We find the weapon, but reclaiming it literally induces whatever terror is biding its time to be unleashed? What good will that do us? It makes more sense to leave it exactly where it is."

"Plus the use of the word 'cataclysm'," Rachel mentioned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "which literally means violent change."

Percy dropped his head in his hands, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a groan. To say he was frustrated would be an understatement. He had reached that point long ago. Now, he was verging on hysterical- a place he didn't particularly want to visit. It was the ultimate Catch-22. He didn't have a choice, but the conclusion completely contradicted the means.

"Basically: I'm not preventing a disaster, I'm causing it," Percy grumbled from between his fingers.

Annabeth's chair scraped against the ground, concerned girlfriend mode kicking into high gear. She stood at Percy's side, placing her hands on his shoulders. He glanced up, shooting her a relieved, somewhat sheepish, smile. He attempted to get a grip on his emotions, hastening them into order. He couldn't crack now.

After all, he had a quest to partake in.

"We'll leave tomorrow morning. There's no use rushing off tonight. The prophecy gave no deadline, and it's vague enough as it is. Once we leave, we're blind. Somehow, we're going to have to find this 'valley of the sun' and recover what's been stolen or lost- whatever the case. Then we'll strap in for the chaos to ensue," Percy determined resolutely.

"Who is '_we_'?" Rachel queried, raising an arched brow.

Percy had already decided that, too. "Annabeth and I, of course . . . and with the clear mention of death, I don't think it'd hurt to bring Nico along. He might be able to help in that department."

"What about Grover . . . or even Tyson?" Annabeth asked, marginally surprised that he hadn't identified either of them as part of his crew.

"Grover has his own plans. I'm not going to drag him into this. He's got enough on his plate. Tyson is busy too, being the leader of the Cyclopes army and all. You, Nico and I are really all that's left . . . that I completely trust, at the very least," Percy explained.

Chiron nodded in agreement, and Annabeth dropped the subject, apparently satisfied with his answer.

"It's decided then," Chiron murmured. "You can stock up on supplies in the morning, before you depart. Now, you should all get some rest."

Percy collected his bearings, heaving himself to his feet. He trudged slowly toward the exit. He was halfway through the door when Annabeth suddenly stopped him, placing a cautionary hand on his arm. He turned, framed in the dim glow from the hall.

"Wait," she insisted. "Where's Mr. D? I know he's a god, and therefore not notoriously helpful when it comes to quests, but if we had the chance to ask him, maybe he'd provide some valuable hints. He might know where the valley of the sun is."

Percy perked up, figuring this was their best shot. Chiron pursed his lips, appearing to consider the prospect. Eventually, he shook his head, adopting a solemn exterior expression. Percy physically felt his shoulders sag in disappointment.

"Even if he were to offer up information, I wouldn't have a way to reach him. The last time he visited camp was over three weeks ago. Before he left, he revealed that he had business to attend to on Mt. Olympus, and ordered that no word from Camp Half-Blood interrupt him," Chiron disclosed.

Annabeth sighed, rubbing a hand across her tired eyes. "What are they up to?" she hissed, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

"I'll contact the Party Ponies and see what they know . . . but this is your quest, Percy. Arguably, the hardest part is figuring out the first step. These are the types of things you, as demigods, must work out on your own. I can only offer my assistance to a certain extent," Chiron said sternly. He tried for a smile, but he just ended up looking sad.

Percy thanked him. It was clear that the circumstances evolving were weighing heavily on the camp director. This only further solidified the view Percy held on the matter: that it was only going to get worse.

He and Annabeth took their leave. Outside, the sun had completely dissolved and a quiet blackness cloaked the sky. A thin sliver of moon was suspended high above, wanly casting a film of weak light onto the hushed grounds of the camp. The volleyball courts were empty, and the armory and arena were just as solitary in the evening. As they neared the cabins, life finally became apparent, windows ablaze with illumination. The only cabin already slumbering was that of Hypnos, though that wasn't shocking in the slightest.

"I'll go talk to Nico. You, wrangle your campers into order and get some sleep," Percy commanded, pointing in the direction of Athena's cabin.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, grinning. "Aright, alright. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

Percy stepped closer, diminishing the space between them. Annabeth's eyes were even darker and stormier in the night, but they gleamed all the same. He brushed the pad of his thumb against her jaw, tilting her chin. The kiss was short and sweet. She clutched the hem of his shirt, reeling him back in. She pressed her lips to his, applying more force than he had originally.

Not that Percy minded.

"Good night," she whispered, mouth moving against his with each syllable. Finally, she released him, traipsing off toward her cabin.

Percy watched until she was safely inside, before turning toward the dark mass of obsidian that was the Hades cabin. The torches on its exterior burned steadily, green flames dancing in the light breeze. He prayed Nico would accept his offer. Percy knew he could prove incredibly valuable to the entire affair.

"Caught word that you received a quest."

Percy jolted, startled at the sudden sound of a voice. He hadn't noticed Nico, crouched by the door. His dark attire blended with the ebony surroundings. He stood now, stepping into the muted glow from above. His expression was blank, and Percy struggled to overcome the aura of death that exuded from the young boy.

"I suppose you know why I'm here then," Percy replied, cutting straight to the chase.

Nico nodded, smirking slightly. "If I'm assuming correctly, you want me to join you . . . I accept."

Water, wisdom, and death . . . a stunning combination for a nice little road trip.

**Author's Note: Any feedback will be much appreciated. I'm sorry for how terrible the quest's prophecy was . . . I'm not much of a poet. I occasionally rhyme, but it's usually unintentional.**

**So that's that.**


End file.
